


Fantasies

by SuperWhoLockianFangirl



Series: Conversations with a Cannibal [6]
Category: Criminal Minds, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Creepy Hannibal, M/M, Possessive Hannibal, Violent Thoughts, sexual overtones, slight gore, violent imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWhoLockianFangirl/pseuds/SuperWhoLockianFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I often think about what you would taste like. You would look so beautiful spread out beneath me, with vivid red lifeblood ebbing out of shallow cuts."</p><p>Hannibal continues onesided correspondance with Reid, until revealing his most depraved fantasies sends a terrified and angry Spencer running back to him in spite of Hotch's orders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantasies

**Author's Note:**

> Err... this one is thanks in part to my friend Beronica and her twisted thoughts. And in part thanks to my own twisted imagination.

Spencer avoided going back to Baltimore for several months after Hannibal sent his first letter. He knew that the doctor was a dangerous and manipulative killer and he’d seen the crime scene photos and read the reports from the hospital.

He tried to heed Hotch’s warning about staying away from Lecter, but Hannibal continued to write him over the absence and he could never quite force himself to throw the letters away. He knew that he should just toss them without opening them, but it felt wrong somehow to just get rid of them.

He opened and read every letter, saving them and keeping them in a small lock box that he kept next to his bed.

Late nights when he couldn’t sleep, Spencer would take the letters out and re-read them despite having committed them to memory already. He painstakingly analyzed the letters, looking for anything that might be more than it appeared. He knew that Hannibal had a habit of speaking in riddles and half-truths, but it was hard to figure out when he was being manipulative and when he was simply being cryptic to throw him off.

None of the letters ever mentioned Hannibal’s murders or even alluded to his violent history at all. Most of them were just questions about how Spencer was, asking him if he had anyone new in his life, asking him questions about books and classes… He seemed far more interested in talking about Spencer than talking about himself.

Spencer thought he should probably be worried by the fascination Hannibal had for him, especially when Hannibal mentioned in one of his letters that he reminded him of “his” Will. The possessive way Hannibal spoke about Will Graham bothered Spencer more than anything else Hannibal wrote, but he couldn’t bring himself to be truly concerned for his own safety. Hannibal was locked up for good where he couldn’t hurt anyone. He told himself he had nothing to worry about.

At least, until he got Hannibal’s latest letter and felt a chill go down his spine as he read the words.

_It’s been far too long since we last spoke, Spencer. I’m beginning to feel neglected._

Hannibal apparently didn’t appreciate being left alone with only the other patients and Chilton for company. He’d been locked up for years without anyone “fascinating” enough to hold his attention. Spencer imagined he probably wasn’t happy to have that taken from him.

Hannibal was a man who disliked being left to stagnate. He’d said more than once that his imprisonment was a waste and a mind like his should never have been left to waste away. Spencer sometimes found himself agreeing. Horrifying as Lecter’s crimes were, he _was_ a brilliant man.

 _I’m reduced to idle fantasy, Spencer. It’s rudimentary at best and one doesn’t like to be left alone with his own thoughts,_ he wrote. _Shall I tell you about my fantasies, Spencer?_

_During the first two years of my imprisonment, many nights were spent thinking of my dear William. I still write him. Like you though, Will never responds. I’m not even certain that he receives my letters. Jack may have kept them from him out of spite._

_Lately, however, I’ve been thinking very much about you, Spencer. Your scent captivates my dreams and I often think about what you would **taste** like. You would look so beautiful spread out beneath me, with vivid red lifeblood ebbing out of shallow cuts. _

_I want to sink my teeth into your very tempting lips, Spencer. I want to devour you. To consume you. It is so rare that I meet a mind like yours that can very nearly match my own and I would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to slice into you and see what tangled messes lay beneath your beautiful exterior._

For a week after Spencer receive the letter, he had nightmares. He tossed and turned and lost sleep over it. At work he would recite the words in his mind, hearing Lecter’s calm, soothing voice reading them out to him.

Part of him knew that Lecter had written it out of spite and frustration, a tactic to get him to return to Baltimore. But that didn’t stop Spencer from taking the first chance he got to head to Maryland anyway.

In retrospect, it probably would have been smarter to show the letter to Morgan or Hotch, or even Rossi. Anyone, really. But Spencer didn’t think about that because all he could think about was what Lecter had written and why it drew him in.

He had to confront him about it.

* * *

Chilton was less than cordial when Spencer demanded to see Dr. Lecter. He was adamant about Hotch’s “no more conversations” rule and any other time, Spencer wouldn’t have bothered, but he _needed_ to see Hannibal and he didn’t care all that much what he had to do to get down there.

“Agent Hotchner has asked that you not be admitted –”

“Right now I don’t really care what Agent Hotchner wants, Doctor,” Chilton blinked at Reid’s clipped tone. The young agent was usually very reserved, very quiet. This was a side of him Chilton hadn’t seen before and frankly, it frightened him a bit.

“I need to speak to Dr. Lecter,” Spencer went on, “It’s extremely important.”

Chilton hesitated again and Spencer scowled, slamming his palm down on the desk and causing the doctor to jump a bit in his chair.

“Now, Dr. Chilton!”

Chilton fumbled a bit, but nodded jerkily and gave the agent clearance, eyeing the gun at his hip with open terror. As soon as he left the office, Chilton called the bureau to alert Agent Hotchner of what had happened and asked him how he wanted him to proceed with the situation.

Normally, Chilton wouldn’t have thought it of the timid younger man, but he was certain if he’d tried to stop Spencer, he would’ve shot him to get to Lecter.

* * *

Hannibal heard the quick, hurried footsteps down the hall and immediately recognized them as Spencer’s. He smiled and closed his eyes. At last, he had returned to him.

He wasn’t surprised at all by the distressed look on Spencer’s face as he came into his view. The young agent had clearly not slept well and was fidgety and anxious, pacing back and forth several times before coming to a halt in front of the glass. There was no chair set out for him this time, but Hannibal doubted he would’ve taken it even if there had been.

In the same hurried, jerky movements, Spencer reached into his pocket and produced a folded sheet of paper with handwriting Hannibal recognized instantly as his own. His smile grew broader as the young man fumbled to unfold it and look down at the words, his eyes moving over them in sharp, quick spurts.

“Why did you write this?”

Hannibal was silent for a moment, studying Spencer. It had been too long since he’d last seen him and he wanted to savor being able to see him in the flesh again. To inhale his unique scent. He could practically taste the fear and adrenaline that pumped through his veins.

“I’ve written many things, Spencer,” he said calmly, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Spencer’s lips tightened into a thin line and he openly glared at Hannibal, “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he shook the letter in his hands. “Why did you write it?”

Hannibal saw no reason to lie to him and so he sat back and smiled, openly drinking in the young man’s body with his eyes. He didn’t hide the enjoyment he got whenever Spencer looked down and squirmed uncomfortably under his steady, piercing gaze.

“To get you to come here,” Hannibal said. “I told you, Spencer, it gets very lonely here without anyone even halfway intelligent to talk to.”

Spencer’s voice was choked and he held the letter up to give Hannibal a better view of it, “This could do you a lot of damage,” he said, “Writing this kind of thing is grounds for threatening the life of an FBI agent.”

“And yet you didn’t show it to anyone,” Hannibal’s grin was more animal than human, but Spencer seemed a bit too anxious to pay it that much attention.

“I still could,” his voice shook and Hannibal knew he would never let anyone read that letter if he could prevent it. He shrugged unworriedly.

“Did it frighten you, Spencer? The thought of me somehow sneaking into your home, finding you where you live and acting out those fantasies?”

His jaw tightened and Hannibal felt a thrill of excitement go down his spine as Spencer’s stubborn anger flared up all too quickly at the threat. He appeared so vulnerable and damaged, but when he was cornered, his little Spencer would _fight_.

Hannibal found himself wondering if he could provoke Spencer enough to make him entirely feral. It was an interesting idea at least.

He watched Spencer’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat and didn’t expect an answer at to his question, so he was surprised when Spencer spoke, his voice rough, but quiet.

“Yes…”

Hannibal grinned. An honest answer, then. At least Spencer wasn’t a liar, no matter what else he was.

“Good,” he said, having to stop himself from laughing at the startled look on Spencer’s face.

“I wrote you several letters asking for replies, Spencer,” Hannibal chided him, locking eyes with the young agent. “You never wrote me back. That was very rude,”

His lips slipped into that animalistic grin as he watched Spencer’s pupils constrict and then dilate, the beautiful hazel gaze fogged over with fear as his lovely hands shook ever so slightly around the letter in his grip.

Before Spencer could do or say anything else, they were interrupted by the sound of several heavy-booted feet pounding against the concrete floor. Chilton had called security then. Hannibal inwardly cursed the annoying man for ruining such a perfect moment.

“Dr. Reid,” one of the guards spoke, keeping his distance from Hannibal’s cage and eyeing it warily. “You can’t be here. Your supervisor –”

“I’m leaving,” Spencer cut him off, but never looked at him, keeping his eyes focused entirely on Hannibal.

Hannibal grinned as Spencer finally turned to follow the guards, his movements slow and uncertain.

“I’ll write you again, Spencer!” he called after them, “And I would very much appreciate it if you would reply this time!”

Hannibal couldn’t see the shiver that went down Spencer’s back at his words, but he could imagine it very well and he closed his eyes and brought forth the memory of the trembling, vibrating young agent with his pupils blown wide in fear, remarkably similar to lust. A soft, devious smile touched his lips.

He still had so much work to do with his beautiful Spencer…

* * *

**-end-**

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope that letter was in character. You have no idea how I agonized over it when I was writing this.
> 
> As always, all mistakes are my own and any thoughts or critques are more than welcome!


End file.
